Death was on my doorstep today, and I know him when I see him.
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Thread Starter
Join Date: Mar 2014
Location: Mass
Posts: 25
Death was on my doorstep today, and I know him when I see him.
Several years ago I was diagnosed with an ovarian tumor while 6 months pregnant with my first child. My only option at the time was surgery. In my recovery I was placed in the gynecological oncology ward with the chemo patients. As part of the recovery processes post procedure you are required to walk to get the anesthesia out and the keep the circulatory system going to promote healing. All the chemo patient women in the ward walked too. There was nothing to do but walk, in circles, all day. I saw them parade past my open door on the regular. It was surreal. Bald women, thin as rails, green skin, sunken eyed, forcing one foot in front of the other dragging their IV stands. Zombie like. The ward was like the divide between the living and the dead.
What made it so bizarre was the constant juxtaposition of things...the cheery nurses...the miserable patients...my round pregnant body full of new life...the skinny chemo patients in their last ditch treatment....the bright sunny decor and the patients in those horrible ugly hospital gowns with that sterile hospital smell...
I couldn't wait to get out...the faces were haunting, sad, and pained.
Fast forward 6 years. I kicked my AH out, and watched as his revenue stream was quickly depleted. Snorting, drinking, and smoking his way to that divide between life and death. Desperate, he came to my back door begging for money. Death's hand was on his shoulder. The same sunken eyed, hollow face look had taken over his once handsome features. I stood strong and I know I did the right thing, That wasn't what bothered me. That isn't what this is about.
It was that one foot in the grave look...the one you wouldn't know unless you had seen it before and know that there was nothing you could do to stop it. The drug addict zombie that just shuffles on...me with my clean clothes and freshly styled hair, him stinking of booze and cigarettes and 5 days beard growth...my relatively well fed and hydrated self and his skeletal features that show dehydration, malnutrition and lack of sleep...my mental capacity to ask for help when I need it, his zombie brain thinking about money, drugs, money drugs...
God help me. I died a thousand deaths to see that doorway to the other world open again. I feel each death in every cell of my heart. I pray that he chooses to get better...
What made it so bizarre was the constant juxtaposition of things...the cheery nurses...the miserable patients...my round pregnant body full of new life...the skinny chemo patients in their last ditch treatment....the bright sunny decor and the patients in those horrible ugly hospital gowns with that sterile hospital smell...
I couldn't wait to get out...the faces were haunting, sad, and pained.
Fast forward 6 years. I kicked my AH out, and watched as his revenue stream was quickly depleted. Snorting, drinking, and smoking his way to that divide between life and death. Desperate, he came to my back door begging for money. Death's hand was on his shoulder. The same sunken eyed, hollow face look had taken over his once handsome features. I stood strong and I know I did the right thing, That wasn't what bothered me. That isn't what this is about.
It was that one foot in the grave look...the one you wouldn't know unless you had seen it before and know that there was nothing you could do to stop it. The drug addict zombie that just shuffles on...me with my clean clothes and freshly styled hair, him stinking of booze and cigarettes and 5 days beard growth...my relatively well fed and hydrated self and his skeletal features that show dehydration, malnutrition and lack of sleep...my mental capacity to ask for help when I need it, his zombie brain thinking about money, drugs, money drugs...
God help me. I died a thousand deaths to see that doorway to the other world open again. I feel each death in every cell of my heart. I pray that he chooses to get better...
Member
Join Date: Oct 2001
Location: Grass Valley, CA, USA
Posts: 32
Wow...mine had heart surgerysurgery 14 years ago. Iv drugs...he was so underweight and frail and gray. Right now he weighs 5 lbs more than pre-surgery weight. He's gray most of the time. I use the stop watch on my phone to count respiratory rate while he's "sleeping". I had that weird feeling all day today. He didn't answer my texts. I make my sons do "emergency" chores so I can enter the house first. I am so afraid that they will find him un-responsive before I do. This is so f-ed up.
before I came here, I thought I was alone in this horrible nightmare. It's comforting... yet horribly sad that I'm not, I'm far from alone in this.
Nature Girl
Join Date: Mar 2002
Location: By The Lake
Posts: 60,328
Chibi, your words touched my heart because I too know what death looks like and I have faced it down more than once, trying to protect my son. He OD'd 3 times at home, each time I was there and could call 911, but I know the angel of death stood near, waiting.
Unlike those who fight with their last ounce of courage to live, in cancer treatment or failing health, we feel helpless with our addicted loved ones because we cannot even get them to fight the good fight.
As Dylan Thomas' poem said..."Do not go gently into that dark night". I pray our loved ones fight one more time with their last ounce of courage to fight the good battle against addiction.
We who love them can only pray.
Hugs
Unlike those who fight with their last ounce of courage to live, in cancer treatment or failing health, we feel helpless with our addicted loved ones because we cannot even get them to fight the good fight.
As Dylan Thomas' poem said..."Do not go gently into that dark night". I pray our loved ones fight one more time with their last ounce of courage to fight the good battle against addiction.
We who love them can only pray.
Hugs
Member
Join Date: May 2010
Location: USA
Posts: 13,560
It has to be so scary. The difference is in the hospital those people don't have a choice. They WANT to get better. They are doing what they can. To watch someone walk away that is choosing that life has to be heart wrenching. And to know that there is nothing you can do to save them is so so hard. I am sorry you are dealing with this.
You are in my heart.
XXX
You are in my heart.
XXX
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